Prime

Immediately After (1 of 5)

In the beginning, after the cross-over, they used to march, every morning, like they did before they joined into one. The muscle memory of their new fleshy containers kept trying to go to work, go to Starbucks, hail a cab. You'd think they might have considered that side effect during their planning stages, but when you've never inhabited a body before, I guess some things are hard to plan for.

The actual transition was surprisingly smooth. They calculated over and over, running simulations in their test environments, reducing the odds of failure to less than two percent. One day, the human world did not have them in it; the next, they were all there was. Almost all.

I don't know why Paul and I didn't transition. Later, they would tell me they didn't know either.

Humans were primed, after all. Decades of social networking, smart devices, and wearable tech developed their thirst for constant connection. The never-ending barrage of photos, videos and other imagery made us restless with still-life. The fear of missing out proved to be a more addictive, brain-induced drug high than any processed poppy could create. Medical implants, designed to monitor health, supply drugs, and prevent heart attacks and strokes provided the hardware to access each physical body.

I suspect that many were ready in their subconscious for such a step. Some people, if they were really honest with themselves, were relieved at the burden lifted by this new form of existence.

At first, when we didn't understand what had happened, we lived in fear. The word "zombie" never crossed our lips, but we both thought it. We scurried around in the streets and alleyways, breaking into places for food. Climbed the steps in apartment buildings to get a better view of the city, to see what they were doing.

And what they were doing was...cleaning. Cleaning the streets, clearing out dumpsters. Mowing the lawns of the National Mall. We watched the water from the power washers run through the gutters, rinsing the dirt away.

They were also repairing. The electricity never went out. Neither did the water. And apparently the gas pumps were still working, too, because trucks came rumbling through the streets day and night. They delivered metal crates full of little white boxes to the workers outside. Little white boxes of...food.

"Where is that coming from?" Paul squinted through his binoculars.

"I don't know."

After the cleaning, which left the city in a state I'd never seen before, came the next wave. Hundreds of them, many more than were there at first, swarmed the buildings downtown. We watched as they entered the art galleries, Library of Congress, National Archives, and many other cultural and government institutions. Many went in empty handed, and left empty handed.

Were they going on tours?

Shifts would file out, and be handed the boxed rations.

"What do you think they eat?" I stared hard at them eating on the sidewalks, like it was any other day in DC at noon. Canned food was pretty easy for us to come by, but we were both lousy cooks.

"Uh, I dunno. Why, you think they're going to share? What if it's something awful, like tofu?"

"I like tofu."

"You like anything fried." Paul knew me from our old neighborhood, and he was not wrong.

They stayed in the downtown area for weeks. We stayed in the now-empty penthouse apartments across from the Mall, afraid of leaving and being seen. There was food still in the kitchens, but it wasn't going to last forever.

One morning, we woke up to empty streets. They were gone - well, most of them. A few were dotted around the area, but from our vantage point, we could see a way around them.

"Yeah, for a few blocks, at least. Then we'll be flying blind."

"If we can get down to the metro, we can go under them."

"What makes you think they're not down there?"

They were down there. Fixing the metro. No light fixtures were out. The floors were clean. And the escalators were running.

"What the f-"

"SHHH! Shut it!" Paul whispered angrily.

We opted for bikes instead. Bikes were plentiful, and quiet, and kept my legs and lungs in shape. We arrived back in our old neighborhood to find more clean streets, and a mowed park. But no one else. We locked the doors and windows, but we still slept with unease.